Always be Polite to a Lady
by Slipgate
Summary: For AmericanGecko's Minor Character story contest, I ask you: how many roads must a man walk down before you can call him a man?


**Title: Always be Polite to a Lady (Except When She Locks You in a Crate)**

**Story summary: For AmericanGecko's Minor Character story contest, I ask you: how many roads must a man walk down before you can call him a man?**

_**Author's Notes: **__AmericanGecko's April 2011 contest about stories centering on minor characters in the Kim Possible series inspired this story. Which character does this story focus on? The title might give that away, but if you don't know, read and see. If the story seems odd at first, it may help you to verbalize it the way this character would – check out the episode _Mind Games_ if you haven't seen it in a while. Credits at the end of the story._

**~*~*KP*~*~**

**Always be Polite to a Lady (Except When She Locks You in a Crate)**

**by Slipgate**

He was a pariah.

His team came for him, but – an' he was glad the little lady and her friend had gone home already before they saw this – they came, secured the perimeter, then clapped him in irons. He shouldn'ta been surprised, really. I mean, Drakken used that unnatural machine and took his body. Then, it was probably his secure locker opened with his retinal scans that contained the codes that were used to access the Neutronalizer last before it plumb disappeared.

On its own that would look mighty fishy. He could understand securing tha possible thief until the story could come out.

What he hadn't known is that dang-blasted Drakken had made and broadcast a video of his demands – looking like him! In order to say it was Drakken he'd held up a blue ventroliquest-like puppet o' hisself, but who was going to understand that in the world? What the world governments saw was _him_, threatenin' them with the Neutronalizer. Not only that, but publically talkin' about it! Plenty o' countries, allies or enemies alike, were askin' Mr. President, "Well hey there pal, whas' up with that Neutronalizer doohickey? What's it do, hmm?"

It helped a little that Miss Possible's Web site, not even knowin' about his woes, published a vague account o' the events in the 'mission logs' portion o' the site. Not knowing how much it saved his keister, they published an account that mentioned gettin' a call for help and seein' that a Private Cleotus Dobbs of the Army had been brain-switched with Drakken and that Drakken had then tried to use technology from the Army to threaten the world. Thoughtful-like they hadn't mentioned the Neutronalizer by name. Even as he was sittin' in a cell, he couldn't help but smile about how the two of them didn't even hint that anybody else (namely their two fine selves) had also been brain-switched. He reckoned they probably needed the experience of sharin' a foxhole a few more times, as accomplished as they were, to get over that stuff.

Seein' as Miss Possible hadn't been around to look like an influenced account to his Army chiefs when they came for him, he eventually was taken out of the cell and allowed to work again.

But really, that was about it. As impressive as Miss Possible was, it was more that they didn't have _unquestionable_ evidence he did those things any more. This isn't like exoneration – this is like dropping it. Obje'tively he knew that his morale in bein' part o' his unit was going to take a nose dive. But boy howdy did it, more than he expected.

The reality is that there was enough freaky happenings in the world, and enough regard for Miss Possible – she probably had no idea really how much – that most of his higher-ups really did believe he was a-ok, e'en if it wasn't on paper. And his colleagues at his rank, seein' as how he didn't seem to be grabbing the Neutronalizer again, even after a 'lay low' period, they started warming up to him. But it was a hell of a thin' for his reputation.

He'd had a court martial scheduled to be in a few days and been sitting in a brig for days (and would stay in that brig till the court martial) when Miss Possible's Web site inadvertently stayed the hand of those all worked up about drumming him out of the service. It let him out of the brig, at least, even if it took time for anybody to so much as hand him the blend-stick for his sugar at the coffee maker.

He was bearin' it. He was. But there was one person above him in rank that not only seemed to still not trust him, but was gleeful about yankin' his chain. She'd been in charge o' the team that had secured the Neutronalizer, and been obligated ta arrest him. So he understood somewhat… but still…

And she'd just summoned him. Again. _Sigh_.

**~*~*KP*~*~**

He walked up to the scanner and submitted himself to its ministrations. After confirming it was him – _well who else would I be? Oh wait, don't answer that… _– it let him in to see his superior, Sergeant Haley Halloran. Now, his fella' Privates and the Corporals liked to talk about her looks, and what they'd like to do if they ever got her alone in a room, but he didn't like that talk. He didn't join in it. He tried to show the proper respect to her. His momma taught him to always be polite to a lady.

Fat lot of good it did him with her. She seemed not to appreciate his chivalry, and had decided to give him a talkin'-to again.

"Sir, reportin' as ordered."

"Reportin' as ordered!" she mocked cruelly. "Report status, Private!"

"Sir, the Signal Interceptor is as secure as always, Sir!"

"Is it really?"

"Yes, Sir."

"The Signal Interceptor is secure, is it? Because I seem to recall that the _last_ thing you had a responsibility to guard turned up _stolen_. By _you_ no less."

"That wasn't _me_! … Sir." he almost shouted. Ooh. Not good. Tha' would be costing him.

"Not only that, but then you threatened _the world_, using a blue sock puppet!"

"That wasn't me, Sir." he repeated, more subdued.

"Wasn't it? There's no evidence left of that supposed brain switch machine you insist existed. You're lucky there was evidence you'd been held captive by Dr. Drakken – maybe coerced statements in that video?"

"It did exist! Even Kim Possible and her frien' knew about it, and got their brains switched!"

"Now that's a detail they don't talk about, isn't it?" she said with a laugh, and Cleotus got the impression that this was the first time in the conversation that she wasn't addressing _him_ with her derision.

"On to other topics." she said, and by the way she said it a mental switch was flipped in this particular Army man to be no-nonsense and succinct again, however she might be treating him. And then she served up, "Can you tell me, Private, what the rank just under Private is?"

He kept his facial expression neutral. "Sir! There are two ranks of Private, E-1 and E-2, Sir! But there are no ranks under E-1, Sir! Beggin' yo' pardon but that's the best answer n'I can give you."

"Real textbook politeness on you. Not making assumptions. Good for a soldier I suppose. What about _you_, Private? What is the rank just under your current rank?"

He held his tongue. _This in't fair! _He knew exactly what she was implying. If it ever came up, though, he wanted it known he was a diligent and loyal solder and not some mutineer. He followed his orders politely.

"Sir, I happen ta be an E-2, Sir. So there is a rank under me, E-1."

She seemed almost miffed. "And what if I decided a demotion was in order? Would you become an E-1, or are there ways to reduce you lower than that?"

"Sir, beggin' yo' pardon, Sir, but to reduce me below an E-1 would be drummin' me out of the service, Sir. That would require authorization for a dishonorable discharge, Sir. That authorization would have to come from…"

"As you were, Private." she interrupted him. Didn't like how he'd reminded her that he weren't just her plaything and that there were people above her. But how else could he respond? Without landin' in a detention cell and breakin' his momma's rules, at least? Right now about the only thing that didn't have him quakin' in his boots for his job was'n the fact that there were people higher rank than Miss Halloran.

"So if an E-2, like your fine self," she dripped insincerity, "was reduced to an E-1… what would that mean?"

"I reckon I… or any other E-2, woul' lose this here chevron, Sir," he said, pointing to the chevron on his fuzzy patch.

"I get that much! What else, _Private_?"

"Sir, I don' understand the question." he lamely replied, wishing he could find some way to get out of this situation.

"That's not tha' only thin' you don't seem to get, is it, Private? I've got my eyes on you. Dismissed, soldier!"

After that, he couldn't hep' it anymore. He called his momma. He listened to her hello. The sweetest voice there ever was or will be. He tol' her he just wanted to talk. His momma sounded dubious, but they discussed ol' Blue Eyes for a spell before he hung up. _Maybe_ Ol' Blue Eyes came close to how sweet his momma's voice was. But second place is second place.

**~*~*KP*~*~**

After another crushin' day at work, he just wanted to make some oatmeal like his momma made and curl up to some old tunes from his turn-table. He may have worked with retinal scanners and top-secret projects at work, but here at home, he plum loved to gently clean the shiny vinyl with a soft cloth, put the record on, and look out the window and think of the trees.

Wasn't that what that Thoreau was going on about? Something like it, anyhaps.

He was in for a surprise this time, no mistake. He walked in to his kitchen side door because he wanted to go straight for his vittles, and there on the table was a real home-made from scratch pipin' bowl of maple and brown sugar heaven. Sitting across from it, with a plate of hash browns in front of her and nursing a can of Heineken, was his momma.

"Momma? What you doing here?"

"Cleotus Dobbs! Now you listen to me! What kin' question is that, boy? You think a momma can't tell when his boy calls home 'jus' to talk, momma' and seems preoccupied that there ain' something bothering him? Now young man, I'm prou' o' you for what you done, makin' Private like you done and working with who knows what hooey, but you're still my boy, and I can tell when somethin's botherin' you. An' if you can't tell me on a phone call, well, I's goin' come down, is what I's gonna do.

"So here I am. Talk to me, Cleotus."

She was his momma. His momma that taught him to always be polite to a lady (except when she locks him in a crate). His momma that was there at all his graduation ceremonies an' cheered the loudest. His momma that was the person in the world he couldn't lie to, or refuse a reques' like that from.

So's he didn't. He told her everything. About that nice young'n Kim Possible and her frien'. About the brain switchin'. About how Drakken had been in her boy's body, tarnishin' his good name.

Finally, he finished and looked at her plaintively. "I don' know what to do, momma."

"Now Cleotus… I _know_ we've talked about this. Now you're not supposed to strike a lady, but a man's also supposed to stand up for hi'self. Now didn't you tell me that when that Shego lady locked you in a crate, you went ahead and fought back when you got free?"

"Y-yes, that's right, momma."

"You notice I didn't tell you you did anythin' wrong there, boy? … If this lady who is your commander is givin' you such troubles,… now there's no good cause for hittin' her, don't mistake me, Cleotus, 'cause I know you know better 'n that, an' I don't want you to be tunin' me out here thinkin' I've gone off my rocker.

"What you should _do_, Cleotus, is you should stand up for yo'self to this lady. And if she can't help but keep raisin' trouble for no good reason for you, you should talk to somebody _else_! That's somethin' else that I taught you, remember? A man don't have to fight alone. A man _or_ a woman don't have to fight alone, if they got help!

"I mean look at those kids that helped you out there. You got help from them, didn't you?"

"Yes, momma, I did…" Cleotus replied, chastened.

"Not only did you get help from them, but have you noticed that the reason that they are _so_ successful is because the two o' them help each other? Neither o' them works alone. _Wonder why that is?_"

"Message understood, momma. I don't need to be plumb beaten over the head with it."

"Yo' sure? 'Cause it sounds to me like yo' jus' grinnin' an' bearin it when you don't need to! It sounds to me like you're not standing up for yourself! It sounds to me like you're not looking for help when somethin' too hard to do on your own! It sounds to me like you're comin' to your momma for your help! Now, I'll help you, baby, I'll help you wherever I can, but some things, especially in yo' line o' work, well, I can' be the one to help ya! 'Least not directly. I can be the one to tell you to get the help you need but I can't be the one to help ya!"

"I will, momma. I'll go talk to her tomorra. An' if she aint gonna' hear me out, I'll go talk to someone who will."

"That's my son. I love you, Cleotus, you know that, right?"

"I love you too, momma, more than' you coul' possibly know."

**~*~*KP*~*~**

He came to her door hi'self.

"Come," she responded through the door.

He went in.

"Sergeant Halloran, Sir! You asked me a question yesterday, Sir, and I do not believe my answer was satisfactory. May we return ta the topic, Sir?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. It reminded him slightly of that young'n Kim Possible and how she'd respond ta her friend's antics. However, while he _knew_ Kim was sweetness and light on the inside – that and a box of shaved nails – he aimed ta find out what Halloran was like on the inside. He wasn't sure if it was anything good or not, but two could play at the game of picking at a person.

"Sir, you asked if an E-2, which happens to be my rank, was reduced to an E-1, what it would mean. That's what you wanted to know, Sir!"

"So it is. You say you have a satisfactory answer, E-2?" Quirk of a smile. Probably thought this was a big "I quit" speech. She was forgetting she was dealing with an _Army man_.

"Sir, I believe troop morale would be impacted if anyone was demoted in rank in a situation where it plum' weren't understood why. Who's to say one's troop buddies – that they're supposed ta rely on for their lives – wouldn't turn on them because o' an overcooked hotdog at a cookout if they saw someone get drummed out and didn't know why?"

He felt like he was on a roll. "Who's to say it didn't have anything to do with one of their buddies who felt entitled and hurt them for no good reason? Who's to say there wasn't some lyin' snitch? Who's to say they can trust any of their buddies to not be the one who got someone drummed out and won't say why or how? If someone's drummed out and it's understood why, that don't have to happen that way… but it affects trust of teammates and job confidence in oneself if not understood. Put together, Sir, I believe it would have a highly detrimental effect to troop morale! That is what would happen if a Private E-2 was drummed out unless there was clear reasons."

"That's enough, Private!" she finally cut him off.

"I do apologize Sir if I became impassioned. I'm done but I do feel that is a satisfactory answer to your question. Is there anything else you'd like to know in answer to your question, Sir?"

She looked at him differently now. Finally, she asked, "And what if there was a clear reason, Private?"

"Permission to speak candidly, Sir?"

"To speak candidly, soldier?" she asked, trying to figure out his game.

"I'd like to start ta answer your question with a question for you, Sir."

She leaned back in her chair.

_Desk jobs forget the field work. Let's see if'n this reminds her._

"Proceed," she evenly intoned.

"Did you ever face a mission or situation that could clearly be misunderstood, and have to explain yo'self for it?"

A haunted look came to her eyes. "… checked the children…" she muttered, almost where he couldn't hear it.

"Sir?"

She came back to herself and her face was harder – but her eyes were a little wet. "Private, yes I have."

"May I ask…"

"No, Private."

"Pardon, Sir." He wondered. He couldn't help but wonder. But in this, he would respect rank. This he had no reason to subvert – not for justice, not for a point – but he knew the only other time he'd seen a strong woman get a hard face and wet eyes like that.

It was when his momma tol' him – years ago – that he wouldn't be a big brother after all.

"I… with all due respect, Sergeant, I believe this is a situation where what happened was misunderstood, but I explained myself. If I'm not to be drummed out of the service with clear proof justifyin' it – I'd really rather be given the respect my Army rank signifies. There weren't clear proof, an… and I've borne myself through this hardship but I need to take a stand on being a respected me'ber of this unit."

There was long silence. Halloran had heard his words, but she seemed half here and half – somewhere else. Maybe somewhere like where he'd been recently with her, though.

"You're right, Private. You stood up for yo'self. Never stop doing that, and never forget to do that." she finally offered. "I know I've been' treatin' you like I had the biggest chip on my shoulder. I'm sorry ta say it took what you said to remember when someone did that to me… and how much of the life I could've lead was lost because of it.

"Miss Possible may not know it, but she's got credibility up the wazoo with the Comman'er-in-Chief. She's got the ear of the Agents Smith. While exonerations are never the front-page stories that excoriations are, and our unit – your fellow Privates and Corporals – don't know just what kind of pull Kim Possible has – you were in the clear the moment she independently corroborated you. I wanted to be a skeptic… but I didn't want to be my… ahem, never you mind, Private.

"It is unfortunate, though, that our Commander-in-Chief has to explain that Neutronalizer to the other nations now. And why it's nigh in-destructable." she laughed, finally dabbing at her eyes a little.

Private Dobbs smiled a little, reassured somewhat. "Do you'n think he could describe it ta us while he's at it?" he said, a laugh in his voice.

"I wouldn't count on it, Private."

They smiled at each other.

"So what gave you the gumption to tell me what for?" she finally asked.

"Sir, my momma, Sir."

"Strong lady, she is?"

"The strongest. But I think present company may be pretty durn strong too, if I may be so bold, Sir."

A pause. Then he continued, "Is there anything I ca' do for you, Sir, seeing as I'm not dismissed yet?"

After all, his momma taught him to help people when they needed help.

_**fin**_

**~*~*KP*~*~**

_**Thanks to:**__ Earl Allison and Pinky Jo Curlytail for encouragement, AmericanGecko for this opportunity that _really_ stretched my creative muscles, and…_

_And, thanks to _my _mom, for accepting the lie all the times I called "just wanting to talk."_

_Thank YOU for reading this. Please leave a review, positive or negative. I always respond to them. Thank you._


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